


Normal Or Not

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Beads, M/M, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that they shouldn't be doing this - even though, yeah, they so shouldn't be doing this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normal Or Not

It's not that they shouldn't be doing this - even though, yeah, they _so_ shouldn't be doing this - it's that Sam shouldn't even know about shit like this. It's the sort of thing he should only have heard about through whispers in the locker room and skin mags he should have stolen from his big brother. He shouldn’t have had his big brother fucking whisper in his ear, low and lust-rough, exactly how they were going to do it, how good it was going to feel; shouldn’t have felt his brother's dick like throbbing hot steel against his ass, just begging him to rub back against it. And that's the shit that gets Sam stone-stiff and aching for it in three seconds flat - that he shouldn't and he does. Because Dean tells him, Dean shows him, Dean makes him want it so bad he can't breathe and then fucking gives it to him just like he promised and gets him coming so hard from it, it's like time stops.

  
So by the time Dean takes Sam's hands in his own and wraps them around the metal bars of the headboard, Sam's dick is ready to blow if Dean so much as fucking breathes on it. Which he doesn't, because Dean knows exactly for far gone Sam is, and Torture Sammy is Dean’s favorite game. Sam would totally hate him for it, except he usually blows his wad so hard from this shit that he forgets how to speak and it's kinda hard to hate somebody for that.

  
"Move them and we're done," Dean says, tightening Sam's grip on the bars one last time before letting go. It's as much a warning as reassurance. If Sam wants it to stop, can't take any more, that's his out, and Dean really would just back off - he'd never hurt Sam, unless Sam wanted it. He's had an out every time they've done stuff like this and never used it, even the times he probably should have. Which is a really good argument for why brothers shouldn't fuck; sibling rivalry plus kink is a dangerous thing. Sam wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

  
He's never been high - even though Dean has threatened to get him stoned and fuck him stupid more than once - but he figures it's got feel something like this. His whole body is all cool/hot tingly and just fucking switched on like Dean has the magic key to all of his nerve endings hidden somewhere in his leather jacket. Which he's still wearing, even though Sam is naked as the day he was born, spread out on the bed under Dean and if he wasn't twelve different kinds of fucked up, being all exposed like this while his brother's kneeling over him fully clothed would not make his dick jump at all. But it does, and even that feels almost too good.

  
This is the reason, more than anything else, more than the love and the trust and all of that, - though that's all mixed up in there too and is part of what makes it so spine-meltingly amazing - that he never wants to fuck anyone but Dean, because there's no way in hell anybody else could ever do this to him and now that he's had it, nothing else will ever be good enough.

  
Dean slides his hands fucking possessively down Sam's chest, calluses dragging over hardened nipples and making Sam's toes curl from the hot pleasure that webs out underneath his skin from it. Sam’s stomach muscles flutter under the too-light caress, breath hitching instantly. The bastard stops before he gets to the good stuff and if Sam's hips pump up for the touch anyway, he really can't be held responsible because he brain switched off sometime around the first second Dean’s skin met his.

  
Sam can feel the beads - a part of him is dying to ask where Dean got them, but that would mean stopping and oh fuck that - pressing cool against his thigh and thinking about where they're going to be in a minute is only making his breaths go ragged faster. Breathing's a thing of the past though, the second Dean's thick fingers tease at Sam's hole. He feels the muscle tighten up automatically even though his body is screaming at him that he needs to get Dean inside him, like, instantly if not sooner. But Dean's still down for the sadistic bastard part of the evening so he just smirks at Sam and tickles his fingers just at the entrance again. Fucking cocktease.

  
"You finger yourself?" Dean asks, even though he knows the answer. He told Sam to do it, said it was the only prep he was going to get and even if maybe a part of Sam wanted to say fuck it and just let his brother do him raw, he knew it would make Dean feel like shit later so he'd worked himself wide - he'd needed to come anyway after Dean had purred his plans for tonight into Sam’s ear. Still that was like, hours ago now, so he wasn't sure how much good it was going to do him.

  
Sam nods his head emphatically; barely containing a yell for Dean to just come the fuck on and do it, because then his brother would just make him wait longer. Dean chuckles darkly at Sam's eagerness, but it gets him coating the first bead in lube so Sam just so doesn't give a shit.

  
"Good boy," Dean rumbles when Sam spreads his legs wider, begging for it like a slut with his body, but that crap always gets to Dean and even if it costs him a little dignity, knowing that he can get Dean all worked up just by wanting it is his own little brand of sadism. What can he say, he had a good teacher.

  
He just barely picks out Dean's "take it like a good boy," over the thunder of blood in his ears when that cool, slick bead presses up against him. There's a flash-fire burn, gone before he's even really gotten a feel of it, that settles into a sweet ache low in his gut. He can't help but wiggle his hips and shift around it, body trying to get a feel for the alien object.

  
Dean's licking his pouty lips compulsively by the time Sam's got two of the little balls shoved up in him, not nearly enough pressure or friction to really feel good, just strange, but it's got his dick leaking out onto his stomach so clearly he's not complaining. The third one bursts past the ring of muscle easier, Sam really getting a feel for the burn now, and he moans for it like a bitch because it feels so twistedly good and because it gets Dean's fingers digging into his leg like his brother's trying not to lose it in his fucking jeans.

  
The fourth and fifth come fast, before he's even gotten a chance to adjust and all of a sudden Sam's too full, no way he can take any more and how many of those things are there anyway? But all of that pressure has the beads pressing right on THAT spot and if he moves his hips just so... ohsweetmotherfuckingjesus.

  
He's working his hips hard now, clenching down around the shifting weight inside him and just goddamn fucking himself with them while hisfingers try and bend the bars on the headboard. Dean's hand slides underneath - fucking underneath! - Sam's aching cock, which makes him whimper with need right up until his brother presses down against all of the places Sam can feel the balls inside of him and oh God! ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod! His nerves are like wires stripped of their insulation, just hanging out raw and open, firing off sparks in places that don't make any sense and shouldn’t be connected to his dick at all.

  
Dean's suddenly straddling Sam's head - when did that happen? - fly undone and Sam can see the swath of precome Dean's painting across his own belly. It makes Sam feel like he hasn't eaten in days. He arches up to get a taste - fucking sweet, beautiful, sonofabitching beads moving around in him again - and then Dean does something down there and Sam feels one of the beads pop free. Everything runs cold for a second when the adrenaline floods him, then it's back to sweating, searing, burning-alive-from-the-inside-out heat.

  
He's got the tip of Dean's cock captured between his lips, suckling on it like a baby bottle and Dean's panting into the crook of his thigh like he's having a heart attack. Sam's dick needs attention so bad he's pretty sure it's just going to fucking explode unless Dean does something for him and he bucks his hips as a not so subtle reminder that he's fucking _dying_ over here!

  
Dean get's the picture and those pornstar lips are all over Sam's dick, laying long wet, desperate kisses all over his swollen flesh and the scorching hot relief of it makes Sam's fingers go numb. Dean shifts a little, angles his hips and then he's fucking Sam's throat so deep and hard he can't breathe and doesn't miss it. Who the fuck needs air anyway?

  
The wet kisses stop on Sam's cock and he's not gonna take any kind of shit from Dean about crying because _goddamnit_ he needs to come now and instead Dean's sucking at the fading bruise on the inside of his thigh that marks his brother's favorite spot. He's almost forgotten what it looked like to not have Dean's mark there and now just thinking about his brother claiming him again has his cock swelling impossibly harder. There can't possibly be any more blood in his body, it's all funneled down to his dick and yes, sweet holy fuck, yes, Dean's pressing down low on his belly again and those balls are moving inside him. Dean's cock his heavy and twitching on his tongue and he let go of the fucking bars whoknowshowlong ago because it was absolutely imperative – fucking life or death – that he grab Dean's ass and push him into his mouth even harder and -

  
Sam's not sure if he's feeling everything or nothing but whatever it is, it's electric and his whole body is tuned into it. He feels every hitch of muscle as his come suddenly, almost painfully, shoots out, splattering hot across Dean's cheek and neck and shirt and jacket – he’s probably going to be pissed as hell later but fuck it, Sam would lick him clean if that's what his brother wanted - and the clench of those muscles just makes the beads ram against that spot inside him even harder. It's like being in a loop and every time the bliss pounds through him and out his dick, it just sends another, bigger shock of it shooting through his body. It's like he's being hollowed out by the aching rightness of it and there's not going to be anything left but a fucked out, empty shell. People shouldn't be able to survive shit like this and if this is the end then what a way to go!

  
Dean's losing it halfway down his throat and Sam swallows around it, loving the way his brother’s come slides slick and warm down inside him, filling up all the place he thought were going to be left empty and he's still hungry for more even after Dean gets too sensitive and pulls off.

  
It takes four eternities to pull all of the beads out, each one making Sam's fucked-out body twitch like he's seizing with the screwed up mix of pain and pleasure. Dean soothes him through it, petting and kissing over his hips and thighs, pressing little nonsense words into his skin that Sam can't really hear anyway even if his brain was up to processing language.

  
"That," Dean mumbles, "Holy shit, that..." Apparently Sam's not the only one not up to words yet.

  
Sam half-turns onto his side - fucking A, he's going to feel that for weeks and damn if that doesn’t make his spent dick try to fill out again - and presses his face against Dean's legs, rubbing his cheek against the warm denim. His tongue sneaks out on its own - he's so not in control of his body right now - and starts licking a wet spot onto the rough fabric because somehow it just feels good to have his tongue working against something. Yeah, he's fucked up, he knows.

  
"You ok, Sammy?" Dean asks, kind of rough and numb like maybe he feels as used up as Sam does.

  
"Yeah," Sam croaks out, nuzzling at the wet patch he just made with his tongue and arching for it when Dean softly palms his ass.

  
"My baby boy," Dean whispers into the silence, eyes sliding closed as he presses one last kiss to Sam's thigh.

  
Sam smiles and manages after a couple of centuries of _gonnacomegonnadie_ , to wiggle himself around so that Dean's spooning him. His big brother's arm slides around his waist easy as breathing, nose working itself into the sweaty mess of curls on the back of Sam's neck. Dean may not be the kind of brother he's supposed to want - in fact the cops would probably try to take Sam away if they knew what kind of brother Dean was - but he's Sam's, in all the ways that count and a couple dozen more that don't even have a place on the scoreboard. And if Sam can spend the rest of his life falling asleep sore and well-fucked in his brother's arms, he figures he's pretty damn lucky, normal or not. 


End file.
